


Finally

by ang_gray_smol



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: M/M, aka the tropang nerds, as said by kuya walt, basilio has no filter when drunk, drunk basilio, how do you tag oh my god, not their sex life goddammit, or not-everyone-really-does-study, pecson is so done w/ everyone, they just wanted to know about the nun and the lost child, this was my first el noli fanfic so it's kinda bad, what happens in the panciteria stays in the panciteria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang_gray_smol/pseuds/ang_gray_smol
Summary: in which the gang finally gets basilio drunk





	1. Chapter 1

The panciteria in Binondo was busy, especially during dinner time, the time when some Chinese merchants rested from their money-making and spent the rest of their evenings bemoaning the way the business is being run, which is actually just to cover up how good business is going, or when students from the nearby universities would buy _pansit lanlang_ and some beer and laugh over how their classes have been, which is just to cover up how horrible classes have been.

As usual, the panciteria received Makaraig’s group as customers, and ordered their favourites: _lumpia, tortang alimango,_ and _pansit gisado_. Ten bottles of beer were brought out as well.

But one might say, “They’re students! They shouldn’t be drinking beer at such a young age.” Makaraig and the rest of the group would shake their heads in disbelief because they ordered ten bottles of beer for a very good reason.

And that very good reason would be something they codenamed as ‘Operation Basilio.’

‘Operation Basilio’ was a fairly simple plan: pull out Basilio’s strictly confidential information about a missing boy from San Diego a few years back, and a nun in the Poor Clares from him. If none of those were ever extracted, then just listen attentively to what the guy has to spurt out.

“C’mon Basilio, loosen up a bit. Just one bottle would do,” Tadeo said, sliding a bottle over to the med student, who was seated on the other side of the table. The others joined in while stuffing their faces with _pancit_ , but he just shook his head and smiled meekly.

“Guys, I don’t drink,” he says sheepishly, only to be tut-tutted rather playfully by Isagani, who was seated all the way on the other side. “Oh really, Basilio?” Isagani teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then explain that one time when you asked me to buy you a bottle in the middle of the night while we were studying last semester.”

The other exchanged curious glances and eager smiles, while the pessimist Pecson rolled his eyes. Basilio flushed a pale pink, and shushes Isagani.

“Well?” Juanito asks excitedly, urging the bottle closer to Basilio. Everyone looks at him with eager eyes, and Basilio momentarily wonders if there’s some sort of setup that he was not informed of beforehand. Maybe it was because Tadeo and Juanito were being too obvious, or because Pecson was really pissed off for unknown reasons, or because Placido was scolding Juanito more than usual, or because Makaraig, Isagani, and Sandoval were sharing knowing looks that made Basilio very suspicious about what’s about to happen in their favourite panciteria in Binondo.

But then again, he can’t do anything about it because he loves all his friends to death and there are already ten bottles of beer on the table along with the rest of the food.

So yeah.

Basilio uncaps the bottle, and downs the contents in one go. Everyone else cheers for him as he wipes the excess off his lips. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Wow,” he breathes, examining the label of the bottle. “That was really good beer.”

Makaraig and Sandoval snicker and secretly high-five each other. The rest giggle, eating off the rest of the _torta_ and the _lumpia_ , while the plate of _pancit_ was long emptied _._

“Would you want another one then?” Juanito offers another bottle, which Basilio readily accepts with fidgety fingers.

Everyone watches Basilio down the second bottle, then the third, then the fourth, then the fifth, then the sixth…

Then when he was about to down the seventh bottle, he started talking.

Juanito was frantic on silencing everyone. “Keep quiet, _Dyos mio_!”

When the whole group goes quiet, it’s as if the entire panciteria shushes as well.

“So, Basilio,” Tadeo begins, waiting for the former’s reaction.

“Whassamallah,” Basilio slurs, spinning a bottle aimlessly in his hand.

“Do you have any... _stories_ to tell us?” Makaraig continues, the others leaning in so they can hear well.

Basilio burst into a giddy laughter, and slammed the bottle he was spinning onto the table. “Ofcourse _mihermanos_ Basilioalwayshasastorytotell!” Basilio garbled loudly, his words coming out as barely distinguishable syllables. He reaches for another bottle of beer, uncorks it, and downs the contents.

The others wait in an uneasy silence.

The panciteria waits, too.

Basilio pauses in drinking and wipes his mouth. Then, as if he sobered up, he began in a low voice, “Once, there was a time when–”

Basilio’s voice broke off as he took another sip of beer. Everyone was outraged at him for leaving them all hanging, so Placido, who was nearest to Basilio, slapped him on the back so he could stop drinking. In return, Basilio choked on the beer and spilled some onto the table and on his lap. He laughed and coughed at the same time.

“Maybe,” Sandoval whispered to Makaraig. “we shouldn’t have ordered so many bottles of beer.” The latter nodded solemnly.

“C’mon Basilio,” Juanito coaxed, urging Basilio to _finally_ spill the damn beans on the missing child and the nun that he knows of.

Everyone was a bundle of packed nerves.

In between chortles of laughter and coughs, Basilio started speaking again in a low voice. “There was a time when” –cough cough—“Isagani was so–”

Everyone froze at the mention of Isagani’s name. This was _another_ kind of information that they wanted from him, so they listened in closer. Isagani blushed a bright red.

–cough cough—“hard that he” –cough cough—“fucked me into the” –cough cough “ _mattress_ of my bed.”

Basilio went into another round of heavy coughing.

Everyone started whooping and wolf whistling as the startled Isagani, from the other side of the table, rushed to cover Basilio’s mouth. Juanito slapped Isagani’s ass, mouthing something like “you nasty, nasty bastard, cheating on Paulita like that”, while the others tried to pry Isagani’s hand from Basilio’s mouth so the latter could continue talking. Pecson was just even more irritated, and muttered a non-audible “disgusting”.

“Vhuth Ithaghani!” Basilio protested, the intoxication evident in his eyes. Isagani absolutely refused to let go, now that everyone has confirmed that the two are _absolutely fucking_ every night.

“That’s enough now, Basilio,” Isagani said, trying to silence the rest and call it a night.

However, the seven bottles of beer have made Basilio a bit cheeky, so when Isagani still refused to let go, he held Isagani’s hand tightly, and began licking his fingers.

The gang roared louder as an even more flustered Isagani tried to pry his now-wet hand away from Basilio’s vice-like grip. Pecson covered his eyes, saying, “I’ve had enough of this gay shit.” One could even spot Basilio’s tongue appearing in-between the gaps of Isagani’s fingers, often curling around one and sliding his tongue across the skin.

When Isagani did manage to wrench his hand away from Basilio, he immediately wiped it with his handkerchief, his face redder than the attire that the Chinese often wear around Binondo and Quiapo. Everyone had settled down, and unanimously decided that it’s time to go home; ‘Operation Basilio’ can wait. Makaraig pays the bill, as everyone heads out the door. Pecson disdainfully carried the drunk Basilio, whose high has worn off as well, and is nodding off as he walks. However, Pecson hurriedly gave the drunk Basilio to Isagani, saying he “has some important stuff to catch up with”, and rushes ahead of the others.

Isagani waits until he and Basilio were a good distance away from earshot, before he whispered, “When we get back, I might have to punish you for embarrassing me.”

Basilio nods drowsily. “Bring it on, Isagani.”

Unbeknownst to them, Placido had been listening in carefully, that sly git.

“Guys,” he says to the others. “I think we have more blackmail material for them.”


	2. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka basilio with a hangover

When Basilio wakes up the next morning, his head is throbbing harshly, and everything still seems to be in a haze. He gets up slowly from the bed, and realizes with a jolt that he was in Makaraig’s place. Basilio makes a mental note to visit Kapitan Tiago immediately after classes.

Then, with another jolt, Basilio realizes that today was a Saturday, so there weren’t any classes.

As much as Basilio wanted to slump back into the bed because his headache was killing him, he had to get up and apologize to Makaraig for the inconvenience. He found his everyday clothes folded neatly at the foot of his bed, along with his dress shoes. He changes quickly, and rushes downstairs.

He is not halfway down the stairs when a delicious smell wafted from the kitchen and entranced his senses.

“Oh, good morning, Basilio!” Makaraig greets him cheerfully, setting down plates and utensils at the table. “The others are still asleep, but I got Sandoval to wake them up from me.” As if on cue, a thunderous voice (presumably Sandoval’s) came from the adjacent room screaming, “Wake up, _indios_ of this miserable country, or else Father Millon will have your asses hung on the scaffold!”

There was a loud _thud_ , which was followed by a string of various curses that can make a nun run for the hills. Sandoval laughed.

“I-is that… _tapa_?” Basilio asks meekly, his head still throbbing and his hangover worse than ever, especially with the previous ruckus. “Yeah,” Makaraig replies. “Isagani cooked it for you. Quite sweet, don’t you think?”

“I-isagani…” Basilio muses as he made his way to the table. He faintly remembers drinking a few bottles and saying something stupid last night, but he couldn’t pinpoint the rest.

When Basilio took his seat, Makaraig set the plate of _tapa_ and the rice pot before him, and Basilio had not realized how hungry he was.

“Hey hey, look who’s up and awake!”

Sandoval and Juanito arrive at the table, the latter’s energy returned ten-fold, Placido sleepily trudging behind them.

“We had some fun last night, man!” Juanito clamps a hand on Basilio’s shoulder and winks at him. He cringes at the weight (and the wink) but smiles nonetheless.

_Fun?_

“Oh,” Sandoval suddenly says. “Could you call Isagani? Tell him we’re about to have breakfast. He’s at the _asotea_ , composing.”

Juanito, catching the flow of the conversation, laughs loudly. Placido gives him the stink eye.

Basilio nods slowly, gets a piece of tapa to munch on, and gets up from his seat. He makes his way past various furniture before the bright light of day hit him square in the face, marked only by a lone shadow of a poet.

“Isagani.”

As though he was being electrocuted, Isagani broke from his peaceful, aesthetic trance, his pen falling to the floor of the _asotea_.

“Ah-oh, well…uh…Basilio! G-good morning!” Isagani stutters. He picks up his fallen pen and intentionally avoids catching Basilio’s eyes.

“Are you okay, Isagani?”

“Is breakfast ready? Ah yes, that may be. Come come, let us go and eat!” Isagani purposely avoids Basilio’s concerned look, and trots away to the dining table, tittering nervously.

Basilio gazes at his friend’s retreating back and wonders just _what_ did he do to make Isagani so flustered?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://almightytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/134782563668/finally-a-sequel)
> 
> violent reactions are more than welcome so fire at me bro
> 
> incoherent screaming may be entertained at almightytrashcan.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://almightytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/134722159123/finally)


End file.
